Last night Saint Nicholas was supposed to visit our house and fill shoes with candy. He screwed up.
"Mama!" my seven-year-old son said. "Saint Nicholas didn't come." He was very disappointed. Especially since he went through a lot of trouble to put the shoes out and tell me about fifty times that he was coming.
"Well, maybe Schultz (our dog) scared him away. He was sleeping by the fireplace last time I looked."
My son made a face.
"Or maybe Saint Nicholas was worried that Schultz would eat the chocolate and get sick."
My son made another face. "Mama, are you Saint Nicholas?"
"Of course I am."
"I don't believe you."
I shrugged. "Okay. Well then, maybe Saint Nicholas had gum surgery and wasn't feeling up to traveling around the world."
My son just shook his head.
See, even when I tell the truth, nobody believes me.